The following Saturday Orenda didn't come over at 1 PM.

I honestly don't know what I expected, but it seemed a bit surreal to me – you know, the whole staying home on Saturday afternoon feeling. It automatically forced me to try to beat the next stage in Outlast Corruption, even though I had already beaten it a whole bunch of times. It also forced me to sit in the middle of my room and paint, which I had been doing a little more than I would have expected. I had already finished about ten paintings of absolutely nothing, an entire tube of paint, and completely destroyed the tip of one paintbrush. It made me feel like a kindergartener, but that was basically the point, it made me feel pretty carefree and it was nice, to say the least.

Anyway, I needed all the stress relieving things I could get, since there were only two days left until I had to go to St. Hemling, and that kind of sucked majorly. The more it seemed real to me, the more I tried to talk myself into getting excited to socialize. Although, socializing is possibly the worst thing one can do in their lifetime; sitting at home, painting, reading, and playing video games beat school by a long run. The sole reason, though, was that I really can't remember much about St. Hemling, except for all the bad things that happened there. Dad constantly tried to convince me that maybe I was just being too sensitive about the whole 'going to a real school' deal, and that I just fished out all the negativity and disregarded the positive. It was possible that I had forgotten all the good and in reality everything was gumdrops and lollipops. I almost wished that I was right.

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I spent the rest of my day in a normal way; my parents came home from their meeting, we talked about Barry's situation (he was getting a whole lot better, but there were some complications that no one would tell me about), and my dad made some lame joke that my mom and I both protested against. Then dinner came, and I helped set the table as always, and my dad made yet again another lame joke – this time funnier, though. I realized that his best work came during the timespan from dinner to bed. But the entire time I ate the thing I kept wondering was if Orenda was ever going to show up or if she was waiting for me somewhere, and believed that I was smart enough to find out where.

"Finnegan, can you go get the spoons for the soup?" My mom's voice called out to me from nearby, and I regarded it quietly. My mom had an unhealthy obsession with silverware, which meant that in order to find a good spoon I had to sift through a pile of other utensils. I'm sure if all of our drawers were dumped out, we would be swimming in forks, knives, and spoons. Eventually I found what I needed.

Dinner was normal too, we had the usual conversations, and I said the usual things. My mom made her signature chicken soup and we had a light salad – "good for the newly blossoming buds of spring" as my dad said. Apparently it was supposed to help my cold get better, and to prevent me from dying. It did help soothe my throat, so there's that.

And then, when dinner was over, the phone rang.

Both of my parents had gone somewhere else in the house, so it was just me and the phone. I picked it up hesitantly, not really knowing what to say, despite the appropriate greeting being literally as simple as hello.

"Hey, Finn?" A small voice peeped out. It sounded a whole lot like Orenda. I was actually surprised to hear her voice, since she didn't show up at one.

"Hi," I mumbled, and took the phone away from my ear then placed it against my chest, listening for my parent's voices around me. It seemed utterly quiet. "Who is this?" I said, under my breath.

"Really? That many girls call you?"

I laughed quietly. "Hi Orenda."

"How's it going?"

I coughed, my cold finally starting to catch up on me. "Same old, you know, I'm uh, existing as usual."

"We have a lot in common," I could hear her smile through the line, and it made me smile as well. It was crazy how she didn't even have to be near me to make me feel better.

"So, uh," I started, but she interrupted me, completely unplanned.

"Oh no, you go first."

"No, it's alright. You talk."

"Okay. You talk too much anyway," she sassed, and I scoffed.

"Meet me at Willow in fifteen minutes." Orenda said, and I was confused right away.

"Um, why? It's like really late already."

"Seriously Finn, going outside at 8 PM isn't the end of the world. Just do it?" She urged, and I twirled the phone cord around with my pointer and middle finger nervously.

"Alright. See you." The line went dead in a millisecond, and I quickly put the phone back on the wall.

I quickly changed into something a little less I-am-either-a-hobo-or-I-just-don't-have-any-fashion-sense-esque and made a quick excuse to my parents about leaving. I think it was something along the lines of "I'm going to Egan's house" or "I'm going to commit murder." Soon, after a lecture about not crossing the road without hearing the birdies, I was on the street, walking towards Willow.

The path to Willow was easy for me to remember, and it didn't really make me antsy about walking there, except for that time. My head still had a huge bruise from hitting it on my chair, and before I could complain, I reminded myself of Barry and his bruised heart. Guess which one was worse?

The wind kept blowing my flannel behind me, the coldness going directly onto my stomach and chest, which certainly did not help with my rising anxiousness. Soon, I reached the nook that is Willow's home, and just stood in front of the tree, my cane thwacking her trunk over and over while I waited for Orenda. Well, until she jumped out from behind me, making me scream.

"BOO!" She shrieked, and I cursed under my breath.

"Not. Funny."

"Well, I thought you were supposed to have good senses, Finn."

"I do. You're just too good of a ninja."

She laughed and so did I, and for a second it was like our conversation on Tuesday never happened.

"So, why am I here? Are you going to kidnap me? If so, can you at least have some AC/DC playing in my cell?"

"Oh yeah, I'm totally kidnapping you. You know, for my personal sarcasm microphone." She chuckled. I didn't know if that was supposed to be funny, so I just laughed awkwardly until she punched my shoulder playfully and suddenly all I could hear was crickets. It was a good silence filler, and I felt like there was going to be a lot more silence, since I really didn't know what to say to her.

"Climb?" She asked, and I agreed. I waited for her to finish getting to the top of Willow while standing in between two of Willow's leaves. The newly grown leaves brushed against my face gently, and I suddenly remembered what Ms. Tanakado had been saying about Willow's planned execution. She had talked to her environmentalist friends about it or whatever. I didn't know exactly how it all played out, but at the moment Willow was still a goner. I just didn't know how to tell Orenda if she was going to ask, or if I should tell her at all.

"You coming, slowpoke?" She called down, her voice distant.

I tossed my cane to the side and started climbing; pulling myself up little by little, the bark nicking my fingers. I finally reached the branch and I maneuvered my way to a comfortable spot. Orenda was sitting across from me again, our feet kicking each other's.

The wind was still blowing onto me, even though I was under Willow's canopy of leaves. Well, I guess there weren't many leaves, considering the fact that her leaves hadn't all grown out yet. I wrapped my flannel around me, and sighed, not knowing what to say to Orenda.

"Finnegan, I'm sorry." Her voice drifted over to me with a smack. It was like I got hit by a truck that I could feel coming.

"No, I'm sorry."

"Don't do that. I really am sorry."

"It's okay." I meant it.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I was a jerk. I didn't mean what I said, but this I mean. I was just jealous, I guess. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," she reassured.

I absentmindedly peeled off a strip of bark on the branch and tossed it downwards; trying to listen for the soft pat I expected to hear from it landing. Nothing happened, and I figured the sound of the wind and crickets covered the sound of that. I sighed. "Do you want the truth? I know that's what I need right now."

"I think so," she muttered.

I adjusted myself on the branch. "I think it's just that there's always been something about you, you know? Like, I was infatuated with you, to be honest. I couldn't believe someone like you could possibly exist. And while all that astonishment about the Orenda May Castellano circled my idiotic brain, I made you something that you really aren't. And that's the worst possible thing anyone on earth could ever do to someone else. Remember when you said that people have to be real? Well, here I am, being real and all heroic and stuff. You're not great. You're not perfect. You're a messed up human being that cries into pillows and lies and sings completely off-key." I heard her laugh and I leaned back onto Willow's trunk. "You're a messed up, terrible, heartless person just like me."

I held my breath, waiting for her reaction. She shuffled around, and soon I could smell her flowery scent right in front of me. Her knees were pressed against mine, and it was absolutely uncomfortable. I turned my head away from her, my right cheek against the bark. The edge rim of my glasses pushed against my nose, and I was ready for her to scream at me, to maybe punch me, or to call the police or whatever.

Instead, she turned my head towards her gently, her cold hands cupping my face.

"I guess we're both messed up, then."

And then she kissed me, her soft lips against my trembling ones. The ends of her hair tickled my collarbones, but I didn't care. Everytime she kissed me it seemed like I truly didn't care about anything at all - except for her. It lasted about a second, but it made me remember the time she told me about pink, and us sitting in the snow, both not caring about a single thing. Back when the world was enveloped with white snow, and everything was alright. I suppose everything was still alright in a way.

"What was that for?" I asked, once the moment was over, and she burst into laughter.

"You're supposed to say something sweet, Finn, that's how it goes in the movies."

"Okay, fine." I morphed my voice into the sound of what I would imagine a wolf's voice to be and said, "Darling, what soft lips you have!"

"YOU'RE NOT GRANNY!" She shrilled in a high voice.

"Now's when the lumberjack comes in and kills me with an ax."

"Thank God." She giggled.

We continued pretending to be fairy-tale characters until it wasn't that entertaining anymore. Orenda turned around and I guessed that she was now sitting with both legs dangling off, rather than on either side of the branch. I decided to stay alive and kept sitting where I was, the wind still on me. It was stopping, though, I could tell because the harmonious rustles of Willow's leaves were already non-existent.

"Wanna paint?" Orenda finally said, and I – being the "master" painter – said yes right away. She seemed a little bit taken aback at my quick answer, but continued talking nonetheless. I zoned out for half of her babbling, but from what I nit-picked out, she had a dozen ideas for new sketches that she wanted to turn into paintings. She talked about this one she drew of a willow tree (I wonder that her inspiration was?), a dog she saw outside of the bakery, and this one of a field of flowers. I asked her what kind of flowers, to which she replied, "all freaking million of them."

Then, she asked me what I wanted to paint. I couldn't decide, or maybe it was just because I didn't want to, but she kept throwing ideas at me anyway.

"Paint a dog," she suggested.

"No, I can't capture their cuteness."

"Paint a house!"

"I'm not an elementary school kid," I retorted.

"Well, if you're not going to paint anything, then I might as well paint you!" By "paint me" she literally meant she was going to paint me, and we ran around Willow flinging paint at each other for the longest time. "Dot the Orenda!" I bellowed, and she mocked me, making her fling even more paint onto her. In the end, Orenda won, and then slammed a long streak of paint onto the front of my flannel and a bit on my face as well. She reminded me that if I got any paint in her hair she would kill me. So I kept the paint out of her hair.

Ultimately I decided that I wanted to paint a lake like her second smultronstalle, and that got her excited. It wasn't easy to paint water, let me tell you that, but Orenda still persisted on telling me it looked great. I just tried to paint what water felt like; smooth, undisturbed, calm, soothing. And I tried to paint what the grass felt like: absolutely terrible. It was easier to paint the grass.

The time passed quickly, like it always did with Orenda. Soon I could tell that the sun was gone and it was getting late; the air was much cooler than before and it had to be about 10 o'clock at least. Neither one of us had a watch, but Orenda assured me that I was right about it being dark. It was also getting cold, so I supposed that the appropriate thing for me to do was give Orenda my flannel to wear, which she accepted gratefully. I didn't really want to tell her that I was also very cold, even though she kept asking me if I was going to die of hypothermia or something. That flannel had a streak of paint on it anyway.

After we painted terrible pictures (and each other) we sat down, backs against Willow. The crickets were still going strong, and the sound of cars were minimalized until all I could hear was Orenda breathing and the rustle of leaves. I had never really stayed in a place like Willow's nook when it was dark so it was foreign to me, and all the calmness and tranquility was strikingly eerie. It was almost as if I couldn't function properly unless something was happening.

I heard rustling. "Hey, Finn?" Orenda said out of the blue.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the thing you said. About me being terrible?"

"Oh, well, I didn't mean it that way," I pointed out.

"No, like me being not perfect. I think it was possibly the nicest thing anyone said to me, because it was the realest thing anyone had said to me, ever. It's cool that you still like me even though I'm not exactly what I was supposed to be."

"You're not supposed to be anything, Orenda."

"Yes, I am. So are you. That's the kind of world we live in – everyday questioning ourselves if we are good enough. The thing is, we all know who we are supposed to be... even if that's not the person we want to be. You get me? The truth is, we will never be good enough, and that's okay. We just have to try our best to be okay. But it's okay to not be okay."

"It's okay to not be okay," I repeated after her.

"It's okay to feel like poo."

"It's okay to smell like poo," I joked.

She chuckled, and then said, "Remember how you said that I was the wind and you were the book or whatever?"

I cringed, recalling that conversation. I really didn't know what I was talking about.

"I don't think I was your wind at all. Finn, I was a breeze, but man, you're the hurricane."

"I'm a hurricane? Me? Finnegan?" I questioned.

She seemed rather serious when she replied, "yes, Finn. I think we all are."

"In that case, I think you need your own book as well."

"I'll call it... 'The life of Orenda May Castellano: And that Finn Dude She Always Talks About'."

"Perfect."

She pulled a wad of grass from the ground and threw it onto my face, and I did the same to her.

"Hey, this green streak of paint on your flannel makes it seem like you have a sash." She said, all of a sudden.

"Green?"

"Yeah, green. Want me to explain?"

"I-"

It was too late. She was already yip-yapping, as usual. "Green's kind of like this fresh colour. Well, okay, not fresh, but nice. The lighter ones, that is. It makes you feel like you can breathe without having to try real hard – like walking in a forest on a summer day, with a cool breeze blowing onto your face. Or when you drink this lemonade that's cold and sweet... wow that's pretty green. And, especially when there's tiny green mint leaves in the lemonade. And the herbs that my mom keeps on the window sill by the kitchen window, all of them lined up and thriving with fresh scents, that's green.

"Then there are the darker greens, which make you feel the complete opposite: surrounded and compressed into a tiny box where you can't get out. Reminder, Finn, in the future, do NOT paint rooms dark green. Very unattractive. Although, I have a sweater that's dark green, and it's so comfortable... so, maybe some dark greens. It's a very vague description, but it doesn't matter, I'm no expert. Anyway, there are the greyish greens that seem really barf-like, but I'm not one to discriminate. I could use green to describe any feeling I'm having, that's what I just realized. For instance, right now, I'm right in the middle of light and dark green; the dark part meaning the quietness of the night and the light part meaning you, and knowing that if a monster came, I could only have to outrun you."

I scoffed jokingly, but overall I could see green really clearly. I could feel the cold, coolness of the green mint leaves in the lemonade, and I could feel myself jogging in a forest and running through a stream, breathing in green all around. It was the colour of being okay, but not okay at the same time.

After that we both sat still, me listening to the sound of the dying wind, and Orenda probably thinking Orenda thoughts. I was starting to feel more and more okay by the second, and the funny thing is all I had to realize was that it was okay to feel bad. I mean, based on what the world was like, and how everything was a huge muddle of confusing thoughts and teenage angst, I didn't expect much else. I reached my feet out and clicked the tips of my shoes together rhythmically, and then Orenda joined along. It was getting later and colder by the second, and my arms were about to become ice from the inside out. But, I didn't want to go home. I liked to stay underneath Willow and I liked to paint ugly paintings and I liked being with Orenda. Like Barry said, I wasn't going to let go of something so great, despite how messed up everything else is. I was a hurricane, after all, and it was about time for me to start knocking over trees.

"It's okay to not be okay," I whispered absentmindedly to myself. I don't think she heard me. Orenda scootched closer, though, and laid her head on my shoulder, her hair draping over my arm softly. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words really came out, which was unusual for her. 

"Finn?" Orenda hushed.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I want to go home today," she said slowly, and positioned her head on my shoulder comfortably, as if she was almost asleep.

I rested my chin on her head tenderly. 

"Me neither."

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Author's Note :)

How'd you guys like this chap? I feel like everyone was getting a bit riled up with all the drama I put Finn and Orenda through, so here's some of the stuff that reminded me of my older chapters.

And I also wrote this author's note cause I want you guys to know that if you're feeling down or need help with anything... I'm here for you :) Just PM me or leave me a message on my profile and I'll answer it for sure. I want you guys to be okay :*

QUESTION! If you could bring one of your *own* book characters to life, but have them live through the life you had planned/written for them, would you?

(It's tempting for me, but I would have to say no, because my characters usually go through quite a bit)

Anyway, I'll try to keep updating frequently! As long as school doesn't mess up my life completely. Also I've been really obsessed with WILD and I just can't wait for Blue Neighbourhood asdfghjkl okay I'll stop now, you're probably sick of my rambling lol.

I LOVE YOU ALL HAVE A GREAT DAY HAVE A GREAT LIFE

OH! By the way, if anyone is having trouble with Egan's mom's name pronunciation... it's Tanakado (tah-NAH-kah-doh). She divorced Egan's dad so she took her maiden name back, yet Egan kept his dad's last name (Gray). Hope that clears any confusion you may have had :)